


Tell Me What You See

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blindness, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ignis had always valued his place by Noctis' side. And Ignoct aside to my Blind Faith au.





	Tell Me What You See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> Prompted over at my [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/). Set into my [Blind Faith](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10619184/chapters/23486166) fic as a non-canon aside.

“I know you aren’t asleep, Noct.”

There were very few opportunities to escape the confines of the Citadel. Not that Ignis often wanted to— there was a comfort to be had in those gilded, stone halls. The deep and echoing dark marble and metal that reverberated life around him with every crisp step he took from throne room to meeting chambers to training rooms to the prince’s own apartments. He had always loved the warmth and safety of the royal wing, the grandeur of the public spaces and the throne room, the history seeped and steeped in the black stone and reflected off the golds and silvers of the accents when they caught the light. Some of his earliest memories were of the comforts of the Citadel. Of his prince’s mischievous streak as they rushed through the halls and escaped to the gardens. Of the comforting presence of the guards and history and the pulsing power of the Crystal the permeated the air. 

Out of all of the children who could have been selected, Ignis had never questioned his placement by the prince’s side. His parents had been so proud that he hadn’t bothered to ask why he was selected over the others. Over the other children of the Lucian nobility, offered up to the King like sacrifices, with their achievements in youth displayed like trophies for the royals to admire and coo over. When he had been chosen, he didn’t have the same achievements or successes. He had started school early, learnt the court manners from his more experienced parents, had smiled when the prince settled against him in the long halls as the advisers met with the King. He had never thought of himself as special— he wasn’t an Amicitia, bred and born to the position by the King’s side, intended by fate to be the Shield to the royal Armiger— but once selected, once the magnitude of the King’s decision had struck him, he resolved to make himself special.

“I’ve known you since I was six, Noct; you’re not sleeping.”

He remembered the day Noctis came home after the attack, after the fall of Tenebrae. He remembered being ushered away from the prince’s side and told that his friend needed to rest. He remembered sneaking a look at the reports, and sitting down, with all the seriousness of an eleven year-old, and talking through the situation with Gladiolus. Of understanding that the prince would be different now, as the adults said, that he had been hurt and scared and might not be himself for some time. He remembered seeing the snippets of the news— the reports of death and fire, and of fallen allies— and only wondering if Noct would be okay. 

Ignis remembered sneaking into the big, dark rooms, and sitting at the prince’s bedside with one of his books. Of settling into the wide bed next to his prince, with his books in his lap, and reading to his sleeping friend. He understood perfectly that the prince would not be able to see him sitting there when he woke. But it seemed wrong to let Noctis wake alone when he did. To not hear his voice and know that he was home, even if he couldn’t see the familiar, safe stone walls. 

After a tumultuous childhood, Ignis had always thought of the Citadel exactly as the name implied: a place of safety and study and reason. Where children weren’t caught up in the machinations of war, and where his friends weren’t sentenced to death by kings and emperors who may as well have been across the world. Where his prince could be kept and protects, still smiling and laughing and learning all the tricks of his future position despite the disability he now faced. 

He never understood Noct’s requests to explore the city after that. 

“How do you always know?”

“You snore.”

“I do not!”

Ignis had never thought to go with Noct outside of the confines of the Citadel and its fortified plazas before. He never thought to escape the watchful eye of the army of Crownsguard and Kingsglaive that seemed to always be hovering— a comforting presence. 

But he could also never deny Noct when his prince made such a simple request. 

“Have I ever lied to you, Noct?”

“No, but that’s not the point,” he could feel the smile against his neck, the little indignant huff as Noct resettled against him, sightless eyes closed. “Tell me what you see, Iggy?”

It had been a game they developed. Ignis describing the layout of the room, the world, around them as best he could. When he struggled with finding the right words as a child, Noct would prompt with questions. And in turn, Ignis would pass himself as Noct’s eyes. There had been times when he had closed his eyes and tried to face the world the same way Noct did— to have the same confidence and surety, to feel the way the world slipped beneath his hands. 

“The sun is just setting, but the sky is already dark in the east; a deep blue rather than a twilight black,” Ignis started, a hand moving up to Noct’s hair as he turned his attention to the dusk around them. “The lights in the city are starting to come on properly now— the districts brighter than the Citadel and plaza as people return home. From here, I can just make out the shadow edge of the fortifications, but only because the perimeter on that edge of the city ramparts is lit against the stars and it breaks the Wall. The shimmer of the Wall is much more obvious— its still strong— now that the clouds have moved on.”

They had left the Citadel in favour of a park near the little home Ignis’ parents kept. Where there was soft grass and a subtle incline— far enough away from the bustle of the city and sheltered enough by the thick trees transplanted from Tenebrae saplings (to remind them of home, Ignis once surmised)— where he could see most of the city and the sky. There had been plans of a picnic, Ignis had thought to put together, a blanket against the chill (lest he bring the prince home with a cold), his phone a connection to the personal lines of his king and parents and commanding officers in the Crownsguard (though he had only ever seemed to answer to Drautos or Leonis if pressed for reports). 

Instead of his careful plans, they were stretched out in the cool grass, a plastic bag from the street food Noct had taken an interest in weighed in place by the blanket Ignis had yet to unroll. Instead of his careful plans for an early evening, he had an arm around Noct, hand pressed to dark hair, as he smiled at the warmth of Noct’s breath against his throat. 

“Any stars yet, Iggy?”

“Why do you love hearing about the stars so much?”

He felt the soft movement of the prince’s shoulders, and pulled his coat back up from where the gesture had dislodged it.

“You like the stars. I like you,” Iggy smiled at the softness in Noct’s voice. He couldn’t help but tighten his hold that much more, press his lips to that mess of dark hair. “Tell me what you see, Iggy.”


End file.
